Dreadful Mistakes
by 0x0xLOVE and WARx0x0
Summary: “That was a dreadful mistake,” the professor murmured. Edmund stared at the still chocolate between his hands; no one needed to tell him about dreadful mistakes.


**Author's Note:** _Hello. Well, this is my first time venturing into the C.S. Lewis section of fanfiction. I pray I did it justice. I've had this idea in my head for quite literally, one month. It just popped into my head and I couldn't let it go - so I put it on paper. Please don't be too hard on me with reviews - as I've said this is my first time in this section. I also want to thank my lovely BETA for putting up with me and answering all of my questions hehe :)_

**Disclaimer: **_I don't own Narnia or the Pevensies or Professor Kirke or, anything really :)_

**Dreadful Mistakes**

_By Fig_

Edmund Pevensie woke with a start, feeling rather cold and shaky, tears clinging lightly to his long, dark eyelashes. His eyes habitually fell to his elder brother sleeping softly on the opposite side of the room. Edmund sighed deeply in relief as he slowly pulled himself up to a sitting position, his hands running feverishly up and down his arms. It took him a long, slow moment to come to terms with just where he was. His bedroom in the professor's house seemed strange, unfamiliar, and foreign as compared to the wonderfully grand bedroom he'd woken up in that morning, back at the Cair – in _Narnia._ An icy chill fell down his spine as his thoughts drifted back to the magical land, to the place where his nightmares had begun. He had had this _particular _nightmare quite often during the first few years of their reign there. The nightmare in which Edmund, unknowingly and in a way which he knew not, brutally killed his brother and sisters – beginning with little Lucy and ending with Peter, agonizingly paralleling what had almost been. Of course, as the years passed he had forgiven himself for his crime, and the nightmares had faded along with his guilt. And here he was, over ten Narnian years later, experiencing it again. He quickly glanced over at his brother once more and had to stifle a small cry from escaping him as the image of his brother horribly mauled threatened to surface. He didn't want to wake Peter. Peter would worry. And when Peter worried, Peter asked questions. And Edmund did _not_ want to answer his questions.

And so Edmund slipped carefully out of bed, his intentions being to head to some small, secluded part of the house where he could be alone and mull things over in private – where he could make as much noise as he pleased without anyone rushing to him, worry ridden.

Edmund's hands shook as he struggled to find the doorknob in the dark. He carelessly swung his hands at the door, blindly bringing them down on the wood, praying that he was somewhere close –

"Ed?"

Edmund cringed, his hands freezing where they'd finally located the knob.

"Ed, what're you doing?"

Edmund stood, quite frozen, and did not answer. There was a terribly silent pause.

"Ed…are you alright?" He could hear his brother's voice rise in concern. Edmund swallowed thickly, his hands shaking once more, and answered.

"Fine," He croaked rather hoarsely. He cleared his throat and tried once more though it came out as somewhat of a mumble, "Fine. I'm fine, Pete. Just - just going to get ah - a midnight snack…didn't want to wake you." This could have been true, on any other night. Edmund was prone to waking hungry. He at least managed to keep the shakiness out of his voice. But before Peter could respond, Edmund had twisted the knob of the door and had fled into the slightly lighter hallway, swinging the door closed as he went.

Although the hall was lighter, it had an eerie, lonely sort of feel to it, and Edmund found himself hugging his arms around himself as he stumbled blindly through the hallway, past his sisters' room, to the staircase at the end. He knew he would have to go to the kitchen now. If Peter came looking for him that would be the first place he'd look and if he wasn't there, he would worry _more_.

Edmund crept slowly down the back stairs, keeping sure to avoid stepping on a particularly creaky stair. He had just reached the last of them when he heard a soft, gently aged voice drifting in from a room just across the hall. He froze, his nails digging painfully into his right arm, _the professor_. Slowly, Edmund turned and quickly crept back up the stairs. Although he wasn't at all certain what the professor would do to him if he caught him out of bed in the middle of the night, if he was anything like _Mum_ it would be nothing good. Unfortunately for Edmund, in his hurry to get back to his bedroom, forgot about that creaky stair – and happened to tread right on it. He cringed as he heard a chair scrape across the wooden floor and feet shuffling. Something told him he ought to run up the stairs as fast as he possibly could, but something else told him to stay put.

The shuffling drew closer and Edmund turned guiltily to face the professor's startled eyes.

"I'm sorry," Edmund muttered hurriedly, "I didn't mean to dis - disturb you…I was just – just coming for a – a -"

Edmund stopped. The professor was shaking his head, his smile kind and friendly. For Professor Kirke, having developed quite a bit of perception during his life, had noticed the way Edmund's hands shook just so as he clenched and unclenched them and the way that the kitchen light spilled onto his face, illuminating his rather paler features and the way his voice shook, albeit slightly. The old man wrapped his arm around the boy, who had desperately begun trying to apologize again, and gently guided him to the warm light of the kitchen.

"Ah, yes," The professor murmured as the pair walked. Edmund had just mumbled something about a midnight snack, "I was just doing that myself, funny enough. And trying to chat it up with that old cat there."

Edmund glanced over at an old barn cat sitting near one of the legs of the table, licking one of its paws intently as the professor left his side and approached an old kettle which sat atop the stove.

"Of course, we don't have _near_ as interesting conversations as I've had with some of those Talking Beasts in Narnia."

At the abrupt mention of the other world, Edmund stiffened and felt some of the color leave his face as his thoughts swayed once more to the awful dream he'd just woken from. The professor turned then, smiling again, and walked towards the table carrying a large cup filled to the brim with something that sent curls of steam into the air and a delicious, chocolaty smell up Edmund's nose. The professor nodded toward it as he set the cup on the table. Edmund cautiously sat down across from the professor and pulled the warm drink towards himself, quietly taking a sip.

The professor studied the boy as he drank the hot chocolate he'd set before him. Edmund's fingers trembled and shook as he held the cup between them.

"Edmund."

Edmund looked up quietly, returning the chocolate drink to the wood table.

"Would you like to hear a story?"

Edmund thought this a rather odd question to ask and, to be honest, would very much have preferred to mumble that no, he would not. But he then remembered what night demons awaited him if he were to be sent back to bed and nodded very slightly.

The professor nodded also and took a deep, though bordering slightly on shuddering, breath.

"A very long time ago," His voice arched slightly with humor, "when I was a boy – just a bit older than yourself – I too entered a magic land. I, however, went willingly, for my uncle had tricked my very best friend into going into this land and I had to go after her of course.

"This land was not really a land at all we found – it was merely a gateway of sorts. And we found that, by jumping into these little pools there, we could get to other worlds. So, of course, we did just that and found ourselves in a most terrible place. The place was in ruins, just completely falling apart. Not a soul in sight. And the sun, it was so…so old…"

He paused briefly, his features thoughtful. Edmund looked up at him silently, waiting for him to continue. The professor seemed to shake himself after a few quiet seconds and nodded as if finding the place he'd left off with,

"We did find some people though eventually. Although I don't really know that you could call them people at that point. They were more like statues I suppose. You couldn't hear a breath coming from any of them. And they were so _still_. Regardless, they seemed to have been nice at some point – at least, most of them did. There was one – the very last of them, in fact – who seemed to be the most proud and fierce and _beautiful_ woman you had ever seen. I'd peg her as most interesting – oh yes, yes she was the most interesting of them all, interesting – but in a most horrible way.

"The 'people' weren't the only things we found in that room though. There was also a bell, and a hammer with which to ring it. Polly didn't want me to ring it, but of course I did.

"That was a dreadful mistake," the professor murmured. Edmund stared at the still chocolate between his hands; no one needed to tell him about dreadful mistakes.

"Anyway," he continued, "That bell awoke that most horribly interesting woman. And she _was_ horrible, killed off her entire world with just one word. I shan't ever forget her name – Jadis, Queen Jadis – the last queen."

As though by clockwork, Edmund immediately stiffened across the table. The professor glanced up at him, took in his much paler complexion and his hands clenching the mug in a white-knuckled grip, and continued,

"We tried to escape, of course, once we learned how utterly awful she was, but she wouldn't let us you know. Followed us all the way back to London by Polly's hair – how I felt for _her_. Oh the chaos she caused there. She had the police chasing her, they were even going to call out for the military by the time I'd managed to grab hold of her and get her back to the Wood Between the Worlds. And then, to make matters worse, I accidentally brought her into the _wrong_ world. That world would be that beautiful world, _Narnia_."

The professor looked up at the boy, trying very hard to smile at him. This was pointless as Edmund was still staring very intently at his hot chocolate.

"This world was brand new. Nothing in it at all when we got there. And then the singing – oh the _singing_. I will never forget that as long as I live. And once we could finally see Him, see the great Lion…oh…that great woman, horrible as she was, fled of course soon as she saw Him walking towards us."

The professor shook his head sadly as he continued, "Of course that wasn't the last I saw of her, saw her again not three days later. Aslan had given me a mission I suppose you could call it – a sort of atonement for bringing that awful Witch into the world. I was to go far away to the Western Wild to retrieve a special apple, an apple which would provide Narnia with a Tree of Protection so that the Witch could not enter it, at the very least not until the tree had died. And so of course I did.

"I went all the way out unto the Western Wild (with help of course, I had Polly and a newly winged horse called Fledge) to the garden on the hill – the garden with the apple which would grow into the Tree of Protection. I fetched the apple right away of course, turned to go and there she was. Naturally, she'd taken an apple and eaten it herself – something which the inscription upon the gates had clearly discouraged. I ran for it then. And then she caught up with me of course and tortured me in a perfectly horrible way. I remember her words exactly:

'_Do you not see, Fool, that one bite of that apple would heal her? You have it in your pocket. We are here by ourselves and the Lion is far away. Use your Magic and go back to your own world. A minute later you can be at your Mother's bedside, giving her the fruit. Five minutes later you will see the color coming back to her face. She will tell you the pain is gone. Soon she will tell you she feels stronger. Then she will fall asleep – think of that; hours of sweet natural sleep, without pain, without drugs. Next day everyone will be saying how wonderfully she has recovered. Soon she will be quite well again. All will be will again._'

"The woman she spoke of was my dear mother, of course. She was terribly ill at the time, it was heartbreaking to –"

The professor stopped short as the slightest of cries broke through the kitchen. The cry had that strange, near strangled, sort of sound of one which has been forcibly restrained and the professor knew at once where it had come from. He looked up to find young Edmund sitting across from him, face downcast, ashamed, and distraught – although he seemed to be trying vainly to hide this.

The kitchen fell silent. The old cat padded swiftly across the floor. The grandfather clock could be heard ticking softly from the sitting room. Edmund, who was feeling more ashamed by the minute as the professor's kind eyes bore curiously into the top of his head, mumbled quietly for him to continue with the story.

"Ah, well," The professor averted his eyes to the ceiling as he spoke, "I did manage to get away from her – it was very close though. But my mother…no, my mother would never have wanted me to steal something, even if it _were_ for her benefit. I stood by that then and I stand by it now. So we, Polly, Fledge, and I, brought the apple back to Aslan and he had me plant it, which I suppose was another bit of my atonement. And that apple grew into the Tree of Protection which was to protect Narnia from that awful witch, for a time," The professor's voice grew quite sorrowful at this but he continued nonetheless, "And then Aslan, oh bless Him, gave me an apple to take to my poor mother. It cured her, of course, as I knew it would; it was the loveliest thing – having her well again. I buried the apple's core in my backyard – grew into a wondrous apple tree with the most deliciously beautiful apples you'd ever eaten. A storm blew that tree down, years ago – tore it apart. Of course I couldn't just let it be burned, not after all we'd been through together so I had it built into a…a wardrobe."

There was no mistaking it this time. The sudden gasping cry echoed through the empty kitchen, and as it faded it was quickly replaced by another and yet another still. Soft tears slipped down the boy's distraught face at last, sobs shaking his slender frame.

Edmund heard the chair scrape across the floor once more as the professor rose. He felt him kneel beside him, felt his old, kind hand come gently to rest upon his shoulder. He flinched, on instinct, but did not move. When the professor spoke, his voice shook clearly and Edmund knew he was not the only one with tear filled eyes.

"I'm so terribly sorry, Edmund. I never meant to cause you, or your brother or sisters, any harm – truly. I had no idea, when I so naively rang that bell that it would cause you this kind of pain…I…I truly never…never meant…" The professor trailed off, his words fading to nothingness as Edmund slowly lifted his head, his dark eyes boring forlornly into the professor's. The professor looked back, eyes just as deeply forlorn. And as Edmund nodded, quite slowly, the tears still creeping down his face, they filled with gratitude.

* * *

_Thank you so much for reading. Reviews are always lovely, even if they are negative._

_Fig._


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